


Expectations

by Inspire_me_to_breathe



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Denial, Drunk Sex, F/M, Humor, M/M, Other, Poor abandoned Ariadne, Rivalry, Slow Build, Straight!Eames, Threesome - F/M/M, Totally awesome and unexpected sex, but not for long, straight!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspire_me_to_breathe/pseuds/Inspire_me_to_breathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything's a competition for Arthur and Eames, so when it comes to wooing Ariadne, its not a surprise that this is no exception. </p><p>Only, no one expected it to turn out like this.</p><p>Arthur and Eames are beginning to realise that perhaps this isn't about Ariadne after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write :) Please note, the sex may be drunk but it is 100% consensual and legal and all that. This work is completely unbeta'ed. In case you couldn't tell. Enjoy!

Eames noticed it as soon as he walked into the warehouse; Ariadne’s shy little smile, delivered in Arthur’s direction. It was blatantly obvious that she fancied him, and this invoked a strange clenching sensation inside of Eames, brought on by an intense kind of jealousy. This feeling was familiar because it surfaced whenever Arthur managed to do something better than him, or before him, and, naturally, making girls fall in love was Eames’ favourite game, even if Ariadne was not his type. Usually he preferred blonde ladies with boobs the size of melons, not petite brunettes who actually had two brain cells to rub together. However, in this case, he guessed he could make an exception, simply because he couldn’t let Arthur win. Ariadne already looked halfway towards a proposal, for God’s sake.

Eames huffed in annoyance, stalking over to where the pair was sitting as they discussed dream theory.

“Good morning,” He let the honeyed words roll off his tongue, playing up the accent. Eames wasn’t actually posh, having been born in the deep, dark, dirty heart of London, but his voice – when made rich and deep – made girls fall like dominoes. Or so he’d been told, and it seemed that Ariadne was no exception.

She glanced up from Arthur, who scowled when he realised that she was no longer paying attention to him. Arthur then automatically honed the scowl in on Eames, a habit borne of years of dealing with the man, and increased its voltage. The masochist in Eames beamed, ignoring Arthur and sweeping up Ariadne’s hand into his to press a chaste kiss to her skin. “What a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance” He purred softly, and he felt Ariadne slide a little closer to him. She probably wasn’t even aware she’s doing it.

“You’re Eames, then?” Ariadne smiled a little shyly and he nodded in reply. “Dom says you’re a forger.”

“One of the best.” Eames flashed a brilliant smile, while Arthur rolled his eyes in the most predictable manner.

Ariadne giggled and, at the sound, Eames wondered if there was more to the tiny girl than he’s originally thought.  There was a quickness of intelligence in her gaze, while the laughter sounded fake, a façade until she knew what she was dealing with.

Eames respected her for that.

“He’s not one of the best.” Arthur corrected sardonically, drawing Ariadne’s attention back to him.

“No,” Eames agreed thoughtfully. He sprawled down next to Arthur, careful to infringe on his personal space. “I am _the_ best.”

And, to his delight, Arthur didn’t deny it.

***

“What do you think of Ariadne, then?” Dom asked, keeping his voice low, despite the fact Ariadne was no longer in the building.

“She’s good.” Arthur admitted, with a self-conscious biting of his pen lid that Eames didn’t fail to notice.

“Yeah,” Dom agreed, “But she’s young, and inception’s going to be hard as hell.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s tough,” shrugged Eames nonchalantly. “I think I’m going to fuck her.”

Arthur choked on his pen.

Dom smirked as he slapped Arthur on the back, but then turned to Eames and said seriously, “Don’t mess her around Eames. We need her sane for the job.”

“After the job, then,” Eames was enjoying Arthur’s reaction, “I can wait.”

“What the hell?” Arthur broke in, “Ariadne?”

“Yeah,” Eames raised an eyebrow, “Do you have any objections?”

“Yes!” Arthur snapped, “She’s, like, half your age!”

“Let’s not make this personal.” Eames requested dryly, causing Dom to laugh.

“That is disgusting.” Arthur muttered.

“Are you suggesting she’d be better off with someone closer to her own age?” Eames narrowed his eyes, studying the point man.

Arthur looked up. “Obviously.”

“Someone your age, perhaps?”

He blushed, “Maybe.”

“You’re only a few years younger than me,” Eames pointed out, disregarding the _go die_ look that Arthur was offering him.

“She’s never fall for you.” Arthur retorted, leaning back slightly in his chair as if to increase the distance between himself and the forger. “She’s not stupid.”

Eames leaned closer. He could feel the excitement start to build, the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline when he drew nearer to Arthur. “We’ll see.” He grinned devilishly, watching as Arthur raised an elegant eyebrow.

“You seem confident.”

  
“My methods of seduction have never failed before.”

Arthur lips quirked up slightly, “Glad to hear it.” He casually stretched out, raising his arms behind his head, one leg coming up to rest on the opposite knee. He seemed naturally self-assured, and Eames could sense the silent challenge he was making.

Eames didn’t reply, just smiled sweetly in response and sat back in his chair, almost mirroring Arthur’s pose.

The game was afoot.

***

“Ariadne, are you free later this evening?” Eames called out as she packed up her models and her tools.

“Yeah, I think so.” She seemed pleased, but maybe that was just because it was finally home time after a long, hard day of work.

Eames grinned easily at her. “Good. Would you like to get a bite to eat, then?”

Ariadne paused, brushing a stray curl of hair away from her face.

God, she was pretty. Eames thought that this detail was very helpful in his quest to beat Arthur.

“Sure.” A pleasant smile lit up her face.

Eames could feel himself creeping inches closer to his goal, “I’ll pick you up at seven, shall I?”

“Why not?” She teased him, grabbing her bag and shooting him a quick, flirty smile before heading out of the door.

Eames stared after her. She was definitely something.

“Congratulations.” Arthur’s voice sounded behind him, causing Eames to jump slightly. He scowled, not used to being sneaked up on, as he turned to face the point man.

“I appreciate the words, if not the sentiment behind them, darling.” Eames spoke quickly, surprised by the old endearment that slid out.

Arthur seemed surprised for a second too, but he composed himself in an utterly professional manner, running a hand through his slicked back hair. “You crazy kids have fun.” He uttered dismissively, already brushing past Eames to leave the warehouse.

“Yes.” Was all that Eames could think of to say, before Arthur had disappeared completely.

***

The truth was, before they had been rivals, they had been friends.

Then something changed.

***

The lights in the restaurant were cast low, creating a warm, intimate atmosphere. Ariadne looked even more innocent here, with the glow of the candles softening her features and tinging her cheekbones with a slight flush.

“This food is amazing.” She sighed, reluctantly placing down her fork, knowing she couldn’t manage another bite.

Eames smiled indulgently, taking a sip from the strong wine he had selected carefully at the start of the meal. Arthur has once told him he couldn’t orchestrate a decent date if his life depended on it, but here he was, sitting in a beautiful restaurant, with a beautiful girl, enjoying a beautiful night.

“Where did you find out about this place?” She looked calm and happy, contented by the meal and buzzed from the wine.

“Mal brought me here once.” Eames confessed softly, noticing the slight widening of Ariadne’s eyes as she processed this new information.

“As a date?” She half-whispered.

“No!” Eames laughed easily, no longer troubled by good memories. “No, not as a date. Even if she hadn’t been with Dom we would never have gone out – she saw through me too easily for that.”

Ariadne smiled then, uncertainly.

“You were never in love with her then?”

Eames faltered for a second, before swiftly saying, “No one could help falling in love with her.”  
  
“I think Arthur loved her.” Ariadne said quietly, almost as if she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts.

“I think he did.” Eames agreed, “But she made her choice, and she loved Dom. She was happy, and that was always enough.”

Ariadne nodded, before leaning forward on her elbows, “Can I tell you a secret?” She smiled easily.

Eames leaned forward too, grinning, “Of course.”

“You lot scare the hell out of me.” She giggled, “Dom’s so troubled and mysterious, Arthur’s so distant and badass, and Yusuf concocts these weird substances that let you steal stuff from people’s minds. You’re all so terrifying.”

Eames bit back a laugh, “Oh, yes? What about me?”

Ariadne titled her head slightly, scrutinising him in a way that would have made her a good forger, “You are never the same person twice. It’s kind of unsettling.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, and Ariadne, sensing she’s hit a nerve, called the waiter over for more wine.

“I don’t mean to be.” Eames said finally, and Ariadne nodded, squeezing his hand.

“I know.”

***

Today Arthur was going to make his move. Eames could tell, could see it in his darkening eyes as he had bragged about his perfect date.

With this in mind, Eames watched Arthur all day. He noticed all the little things, like how Arthur hated fiddling, would clench his hands into fists if his fingers began messing with things; simply because he liked control and his command over his own body was no exception.

Eames noticed how Arthur never smiled at jokes, but later grinned to himself when he thought no one was looking.

Eames noticed how Arthur’s forearms were strong, how his slender build hid the strength beneath his finely tailored clothes.

Eames noticed how Arthur knew he was looking, but didn’t embarrass him by pointing it out.

***

Arthur’s date went well.

Eames knew because he had, without stalkerish intentions, observed the whole evening.

It was obvious that Ariadne had loved the special exhibition Arthur had taken her to see at the Louvre, seeming fascinated by the modern architecture blurring with the old artwork.  It was also obvious that she was into Arthur, taking every opportunity to grab his arm and drag him over to new painting.

Eames was jealous. Arthur was winning.

Still, Eames had enjoyed the evening too, smirking when Arthur corrected the guide’s incorrect knowledge in a muted tone to an amused Ariadne. He had to admit, they made a cute couple. So much so that he even considered giving up the chase to allow them to be together, but Eames found he couldn’t accept defeat just yet

***

Somehow, Eames thought, twisting the poker chip over and over in his fingers, somehow he might have fallen in love.

***

Yusuf cornered Arthur and Eames one day when Ariadne and Dom had gone under to work on the architecture of the first level.

“You both need to give up with Ariadne.” He demanded, “She keeps coming to me, all confused inside because she can’t decide which one of you she likes the most.”

Eames had exchanged a look with Arthur, who had a delicious smirk on his face at this news.

“It’s getting really annoying!” Yusuf complained, grumpily waving an overflowing phial of chemicals in their direction.

“We can’t help it if we’re both so charming and attractive,” Eames tried to reason with him, but Yusuf was having none of it.

He shook his head in mock exasperation. “She’s been hired to _do a job_ , not to provide entertainment for you two dickheads.”

“Sorry.” Arthur apologised, not looking sorry at all. Eames found himself smiling a little wider for some reason.

Yusuf flung his hands up in surrender, splashing the dangerous substance all over the floor. He didn’t seem to notice. “Just leave her alone until we’ve finished this inception business.”

“Yes, sir!” Eames saluted at Yusuf’s retreating figure, earning himself a raised finger for his trouble.

Arthur sniggered, “Trying to relive the glory days, there?”

“Darling, I’m _living_ the glory days.” Eames replied smoothly, ignoring the anxious tightening in his chest as he was reminded of his time in the army.

“Are you going to do as Yusuf says?”

Eames gave him a pointed look, “What do you think?”

Arthur just laughed.

***

For all their bravado, Arthur and Eames actually toned down their flirting in the week leading up to the job, both of them trying to maintain the image of professionalism.

It didn’t stop them throwing out random compliments, or, in Eames’ case, barely disguised innuendos, but it was enough to get them through the inception without any major screw-ups.

Well, kind of.

The mutual relief was tangible as the plane touched down in LAX, and Eames found himself looking for Arthur’s eyes as they gathered their luggage.

A kick in zero-gravity. How the hell had Arthur managed that?

Arthur’s hands were trembling as they left the airport and went their separate ways.

***

“Ariadne! Long time, no see!” Eames said cheerfully, cradling the mobile phone to his ear with one hand while he emptied the minibar of his hotel room with the other, and proceeded to mix up some drinks.

“Two days.” Ariadne agreed with a hint of amusement, “Arthur said we shouldn’t make contact for at least two weeks, if not longer.”

Eames grinned, “Never mind Arthur, he’s just an old stick in the mud.”

“Charming,” came Arthur’s voice from down Ariadne’s end of the phone.

Eames nearly dropped the mobile in surprise, “Darling, how nice of you to join us!”

“Not _us_.” Arthur corrected him smugly, “Me and Ariadne.”

“Ariadne and I” Eames countered, even more smugly. He felt Arthur had given him that one on purpose, to soften the blow of Eames’ defeat, but that didn’t mean Eames couldn’t enjoy it.

“Sure, sure,” Arthur laughed, confirming his suspicions, “But seriously, you shouldn’t be trying to contact Ariadne.”

“Hypocrite,” Eames mumbled under his breath, pouring a generous measure of vodka into his glass.

Again Arthur laughed, and, despite it sounding tinny in his ear, Eames felt a weird lightness at the sound. He blamed the alcohol.

“I meant to ask you,” Eames tried to ignore the feeling, “how did you manage a kick in zero-gravity?”

He was truly intrigued, and had been trying to work it out all night.

“I used my imagination.” Arthur deadpanned.

“Wonderful.” Eames breathed, taking a deserving sip of his alcoholic, and potentially toxic, concoction. “Meet up, tonight?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Eames listened to the silence on the other end of the line, wondering when exactly Arthur had taken it off speaker phone.

“Okay.”

***

The bar was crowded and sweaty, the lighting low and the music almost on the edge of painfully loud.

“Eames!” Ariadne’s excited squeal caught his attention, and Eames pushed his way to the booth they were occupying in the corner.

“Hi,” He smiled, reaching out for Arthur’s drink before the point man could protest and downing it in one.

“How much have you had already?” Arthur frowned, receiving only a shrug in response.

Ariadne giggled, obviously already on her third or fourth drink of the evening.

Arthur’s hands were still trembling. Eames caught one between his hands before he could even reconsider. Arthur pursed his lips crossly, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he threw back one of the shots Ariadne had brought to the table, his eyes never leaving Eames’.

Eames drew back.

“Have you heard from Cobb?” Eames asked automatically, searching for a shot of his own.

“He made it home.” Arthur nodded, a smile relaxing his face so suddenly Eames had to reach for another of the shots littered across the table.

“Have you seen his kids?” Ariadne yelled loudly, bobbing up and down in her seat, slightly out of time to the music, “They’re adorable!”

“Yeah,” Eames agreed. He collapsed into the booth, accidentally falling too close to Arthur. “Thank God.”

“Thank God the job’s over?”  Arthur shoved him half-heartedly off his lap.

“Thank God it’s _all_ over.” Eames shook his head, wondering what the chances of falling unconscious were if he risked another shot. “Now he’s home.”

Arthur murmured his agreement, one hand seeking out Ariadne over the table. She grasped his hand, twining their fingers together. Eames felt a surge of jealously that could only be tamed with another shot.

“You look beautiful, Ariadne.” Eames complimented her softly, and it was true. She had never looked so alive, so _vibrant_ , as she did tonight, with the success of inception and the quality of company fuelling her happiness.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

Ariadne blushed furiously, and hid her smile behind her glass.

She knew she was pretty in a plain kind of way, but having two handsome men tell her that was almost unbelievable. She nearly checked her totem, just to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“I love this song!” Eames beamed, his laughter coming easy with the alcohol, “Let’s dance.”

***

The bar was crowded and sweaty, the lighting low and the music almost on the edge of painfully loud.

Eames felt a sense of déjà vu.

***

He wasn’t sure which body he was pressed against, only knew they felt good and they weren’t pushing him away.

He could hear Ariadne’s voice whispering in his ear, her laughter breathless and excited, as she danced.

Somewhere in the distance, the music faded, but they danced on.

***

If this was a dream, Eames didn’t ever want to wake up.

***

Ariadne was shining, lighting up like a star. She danced slowly, provocatively, around the hotel room. The song was coming from the music channel, the images flashing colours against her cream skin, and Eames felt his head throbbing in time to the bass. Arthur poured himself more vodka, raising the glass up in an impromptu toast as Ariadne began removing her blouse.

They were drunk. Quite spectacularly drunk.

Eames grinned and hauled himself up off the sofa to catch Ariadne around the waist, drawing her closer to his body. She swayed playfully in his grasp, then ducked away, her eyes bright with mischievous intentions as she shrugged the blouse from around her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

Arthur found himself humming along to a tune he didn’t know, setting the empty glass down on the counter. He strolled over to the other two, and raised a hand to delicately stroke Ariadne’s face. She leaned in to his touch, her eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“Let’s have sex.” She whispered, trailing one hand down the front of Eames’ shirt. “I want both of you. Right now.”

“If you insist,” Eames murmured, glossing over the _threesome_ part to the _sex with Ariadne_ part.

Arthur sighed happily, leaning forward to kiss Ariadne on the lips. She responded appreciatively, deepening the kiss even as Eames wrapped an arm around her waist. His hand snaked lower.

“Bedroom.” She gasped, turning to tug them both after her.

The bed was large and soft, incredibly inviting to their inebriated minds. Ariadne crawled on backwards, dragging her boys down with her. Arthur reached to undo her jeans, but she pushed his hands off.

“No.” She whispered, “Get your own clothes off.”

Eames smiled at her bossiness, having suspected quite early on that she would be dictatorial in bed.

Ariadne was lying there naked, with only her panties left on. Eames slipped a hand underneath the fabric and was rewarded with a little moan. He bent low to kiss the inside of her thighs, and lazily acknowledged Arthur crawling up her body to graze her neck with open-mouthed, hot kisses.

Eames paused. His breath caught.

Then Arthur moaned deep in his throat, and Eames began caressing Ariadne’s smooth, pale skin again, his cock already half hard.

He smiled against her softness, enjoying the moment he had dreamed about for months. She smelled gorgeous, sweet and wet and perfect. Ariadne’s hand caught in his hair, guiding him upwards to kiss her eager mouth.

His shoulder bumped against Arthur’s, a jolt of electricity flooding his over-sensitive skin. He was trembling.

Slowly he stopped kissing Ariadne, and she moaned in protest.

Arthur had gone still too.

Something flickered inside of Eames; a kind of stuttering, a reconsideration. He couldn’t draw his gaze away from Arthur – he looked different. Flushed and excited. The dim lighting of the room highlighted Arthur’s cheekbones and the glittering depth of his eyes.

Eames knew every curve and crease of Arthur’s face. It was as familiar as his reflection, and just as surreal. And now, Eames was awestruck by the detail of his skin and its perfection. He had never imagined a human could look so extraordinary; so completely, so unreservedly, so unapologetically _beautiful_.

Arthur was beautiful.

“Fuck.” Eames breathed. He couldn’t bring himself to look away, but he couldn’t bear to see Arthur like this for a second longer. He felt it might kill him.

He surged upwards with a fiery lust and found Arthur’s lips, forcing himself closer as if he were trying to become one. Arthur stiffened slightly at his aggression and Eames felt a shiver of frustration. He remedied this by opening his lips and slipping his tongue inside Arthur’s mouth.

Their tongues collided and Arthur was so startled, he forgot how to think. He could only feel.

Eames rubbed his tongue along one edge of Arthur’s, twisting and teasing until Arthur had to fight back, and met Eames with an equal strength and passion. There were stars dancing across their skin, fireworks in their mouth, and an unfathomable longing echoing from deep within.

Arthur closed his eyes and moaned quietly enough that Ariadne didn’t hear. But Eames felt it vibrating through his body, connecting the space between them. He pushed forward again and slid a hand onto Arthur’s waist, drawing him closer. Arthur responded wildly and wrapped his arms around Eames’s neck so he could bury himself in Eames’s touch.

The next few seconds consisted of touching and kissing and exploring. Arthur felt himself giving in to Eames’s hunger, and, in doing so, fed his own.

Then, suddenly, the noise of Ariadne drunkenly leaving the room broke them apart and Eames pulled back, panting. Arthur’s forehead was creased in a frown and his skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

 “I’m not gay.” Arthur breathed, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I’m not either,” Eames said softly. He raised a hand and tentatively stroked the side of Arthur’s face. Arthur continued staring at him, his pupils dilated and his breathing ragged.

“I’m not gay.” Arthur repeated forcefully, but he didn’t pull away from Eames’s touch.

Eames ignored him and gently allowed his hand to follow the curve of Arthur’s jaw, lightly trailing his trembling fingers down Arthur’s neck. Here he paused and rubbed his thumb against Arthur’s skin. Arthur’s breath caught and his eyes closed. Eames smiled and unhurriedly slid his hand over the other man’s chest, enjoying the warmth underneath his fingertips. Then he went on to explore Arthur’s toned abs, before finally gliding across his stomach.

All the while Arthur was drifting closer, closing the gap between them. He put his arms around Eames’s waist and pulled his hips towards his own. Eames gasped as their erections collided.

“Fuck.” He panted, and furiously moved his hands back up to Arthur’s face so he could pull him in for another kiss, which was rougher than before.

Arthur’s hands slipped down to grab his ass. Eames pressed himself closer, loving the taste of Arthur’s lips and the way he kissed.

This must be a dream. This must be a dream. This must be a dream.

Arthur whimpered; the noise heading straight to Eames’ groin.

“Ah, Christ,” He muttered.

Arthur wrapped both arms around Eames and pulled him close. They were both hard, and trembling from each other’s touch. Arthur lowered his arms and draped them around Eames’s waist.

Something about Eames made it impossible for Arthur to think straight. The feel of him pressed against his thigh, the musky smell of his hair, the strength and passion and beauty that was his for the taking, if he wanted it.

And, tonight, Arthur wanted it.

He pulled Eames’s lips back up to his, forcing his mouth open, and flickered his tongue inside. The taste was incredible and tinged with barely hidden longing. Their hands roamed everywhere, feeling and pulling and pushing with an instinctual understanding of each other’s desire. Their hips started to grind automatically. It felt so Godamn good that Eames pulled away, feeling dizzy and breathless.

“Please… I want to…” He couldn’t speak, but Arthur understood.

“Yes.” He panted, bringing Eames’s lips back to his, sucking Eames’s tongue deep into his mouth greedily.

Eames closed his eyes and fell deeper into Arthur’s caress. He shivered in delight as Arthur tightened his grip around his waist. Every part of their bodies was pressed against each other. Their lips, their chests, their groins, their thighs. They fit together perfectly.

Arthur wondered about Ariadne, but this felt so different, so exotic and extraordinary, that he was forced to forget her. Eames was solid and strong. His lips were fuller. His touch was harder, yet softer.

“Please.” Eames gasped, and Arthur nodded.

At that, Eames reached down and pressed his mouth against the planes of Arthur’s bare chest, kissing and caressing every inch of skin with an intensity that Arthur could feel wherever their skin touched.

This was good. This was right. This was all Eames could ever have wanted. The feel of Arthur’s skin was electric. Hurriedly, Eames forced Arthur back against the headboard, using the resistance to push against. Arthur met his kisses with an equal fury, and then they were battling each other. Even in sex, they were rivals, trying to out-do the other. Their tongues twisted and darted about each other’s mouths and Arthur’s nails dug into Eames’s torso, marking the skin with angry lines.

Eames pressed more kisses along Arthur’s strong jawline, desperately hungry for the taste of sweat and skin and sex. His hand slid down Arthur’s stomach and gripped the point man’s cock, squeezing it between his fingers. He’d never before imagined wanting to touch another person’s cock, but here, right now, with Arthur pinned underneath him, Eames realized how much of a brilliant idea it was.

Arthur moaned and began thrusting into Eames’s hand. Eames tightened his grip, his own erection begging for some attention.

“Oh God!” Arthur whimpered, grabbing Eames’s hand and pushing against him harder. He wished Eames was a girl so he could fuck him. He wanted to be inside Eames, or feel him moving inside of him, but he didn’t know how.

Eames tilted his hips and brought their cocks together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Arthur buried his face against Eames’s shoulder, while their bodies rocked and pounded against each other. Their moans couldn’t be told apart. They were one, moving in perfect synchronization, as if they had been made for each other.

Arthur strained against Eames, now reaching out to feel Eames’s hard-on. Eames gasped as stars exploded through his body. They moved faster and harder, their hips slamming into each other more urgently. They could both feel the climax coming and it ripped through their bodies like a tsunami.

 _“_ Fuck, _Arthur!”_ Eames swore, collapsing on top of him. They lay shivering and panting for a few minutes. Eames could feel Arthur’s heart beating like crazy. Eventually, it slowed; Arthur’s body relaxing as he fell asleep with Eames not far behind, welcoming the alcohol and sex induced sleep.

***

Ariadne stared at the flickering television screen. She was pissed, and she was pissed off. Not a good combination.

She resolved to murder both men once they were both fully dressed; otherwise she might get distracted by their lovely bodies.

How could she have been so stupid? She’d completely missed all the warning signs. But, then again, they’d both lead her on, making her believe that they wanted her. How typical, she mused angrily, as soon as she had them in a position to be her good little sex slaves, they started making out with each other instead of her.

She was angry, and very drunk.

***

Arthur’s point man senses woke him up at 6.30am exactly, as per usual. He stretched first, right arm and then the left, as per usual, and then sat up sleepily, reaching to find his watch, as per usual.

Not so as per usual, was waking up to find himself in bed with another man.

Arthur tore himself away from Eames’ tangled limbs, biting back a string of curses. Eames blinked his eyes open slowly, taking a moment to register where he was, and what he’d done the night before, before bolting upright.

“Fuck!”

“Yes, fuck!” Arthur snapped in condescending agreement, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was drunk and horny and what the hell were you thinking?” Eames retorted, scrabbling to find some clothes.

Arthur glared at him, “This. Never. Happened.”

“What never happened?” Eames asked innocently, trying for levity. Arthur threw a shoe at him.

“I mean it, this never happened! We did not have sex, we did not fuck. We did not screw or bang or whatever stupid thing you Britons call it!” Arthur growled, “I will rip your balls off if anyone _ever_ finds out about…” He cast his hand about in a vague gesture, “this.”

Eames buried his face in his hands, “Hangover.” He whimpered, “Stop yelling at me, please”

Arthur growled, finished getting dressed and stomped out of the room.

***

“Well?” Ariadne was waiting for them.

“Well what, Ariadne dear?” Eames assembled his best innocent face, but his head hurt like a bitch and his acting was not up to its usual caliber.

“Why the fuck would you promise me sex and then make out with each other instead?” Ariadne snarled, her ferocity taming even Arthur slightly.

“I don’t know,” Eames replied honestly, while the point man sulked next to him.

“Are you gay?” Ariadne demanded an answer.

“No.” Eames assured her, wincing slightly as his hangover tormented him.

Arthur glared at him, before turning to Ariadne, “We’re not gay, and this was a mistake. We’re very sorry.”

“Too much to drink, if you know what I mean.” Eames attempted his sweetest, most pleasing English accent, but his throat had been stripped raw, and it sounded dry and painful.

Ariadne crossed her arms in disbelief, “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“We’re not lying!” Arthur protested, and then added as an afterthought, “At least, I’m not.”

Ariadne was too tired to continue the inquisition, so she let them leave the hotel, both heading their separate ways.

She had never been so embarrassed – how awful do you have to be in bed to drive your heterosexual partners towards a night of strictly homosexual pleasure?  She groaned, covering her face with her hands. This was not good. She reached for her phone, and quick-dialed Yusuf.

She was dreading seeing them again at Dom’s celebratory party next month.

It was going to be so awkward.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooohhh, I don't know about you, but I enjoyed that ;) And yes, I know I shouldn't say that about my own story, but I just love these guys together so much.  
> Please comment/criticise - I will love you forever!  
> 


End file.
